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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143567">long oblivion taste</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/pseuds/escherzo'>escherzo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessiveness, a wee bit of comeplay, implied previous CNC, minor cameos by sadist!Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:02:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/pseuds/escherzo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Could you get me a glass of water?" Jon asks, twisting off the cap of his sleeping pills, and without meaning to, Martin's eyes flick from the pills to Jon and back again. Jon smiles, a soft, secret thing, and Martin sucks in a quick breath.</p><p>He goes to get the water. It's a good distraction, something to keep his mind off thoughts of <i>later</i>. Of Jon, who will soon be asleep. Of what, three days ago, they'd talked about. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>233</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>long oblivion taste</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>set in no particular era. mostly just pwp because I have written surprisingly little somno for how fond i am of it. started out as me going, you know, I think the ace mood of the day is "it would really be convenient if you just fucked me in my sleep". jon suggests it and so martin does. jon is living the dream, puns entirely intended. he is asleep for 80% of this fic.</p><p>unbetaed. squeezed in between a bunch of secret santa work. have fun?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Could you get me a glass of water?" Jon asks, twisting off the cap of his sleeping pills, and without meaning to, Martin's eyes flick from the pills to Jon and back again. Jon smiles, a soft, secret thing, and Martin sucks in a quick breath.</p><p>He goes to get the water. It's a good distraction, something to keep his mind off thoughts of <i>later</i>. Of Jon, who will soon be asleep. Of what, three days ago, they'd talked about. </p><p>"You could do anything you wanted to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you. I wouldn't even know it was happening," Jon had said, in a soft, low voice, curled up against Martin's chest. He didn't want to know when Martin decided to do it. Or how often he would want to. It was blanket permission to just--use him. </p><p>"Just, um. Any night?" he'd asked, flushing, after he made Jon swear it wasn't about keeping up with him sexually, despite how Jon had explained it at first ("it's <i>convenient</i>. If I'm not in the mood for it I find sex boring, but that wouldn't be at issue if I slept through it"). And Jon, eyes full of love and trust and no small amount of mischief, had said yes. </p><p>He didn't do it last night, or the night before. He could have. Jon sleeps so deeply these days. The nightmares put him under so far that Martin couldn't wake him if he wanted, and the pills help keep him from thrashing, exhausting himself even as he tries to rest. The combination of them means that even if Martin tries to wake him, he's not likely to succeed. </p><p>He fills up Jon's water glass with shaking hands, heat curling low in his gut. The pills take a little while to kick in. Twenty minutes or so. Enough time for Jon to get comfortable in bed, curled up in the mess of blankets, his racing thoughts drifting away into oblivion. Unaware that Martin is going to fuck him later in the night. </p><p>"Thank you," Jon says as Martin hands him the glass, and downs his pills with a quick swallow before drinking half the glass. "Are you coming to bed?"</p><p>"Going to finish the dishes first, I think?" Martin says, which is true, because he is going to need all the distraction he can for those twenty minutes. "Good night." He leans down and kisses Jon, and Jon winds his arms around Martin's neck and keeps him close, his mouth hot against Martin's. He makes a soft little noise into the kiss, and Martin aches with want. </p><p>"Goodnight," Jon says, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against Martin's for a moment. "Don't be long."</p><p>"I won't," Martin says, and Jon lets him go, turning away to head for the bedroom. He's in his sleep clothes already, an oversized t-shirt that used to be Martin's with only pants underneath. </p><p>It's going to be a long twenty minutes. Martin tries to focus on the dishes, on the mechanical motions of scrubbing as he watches the minutes tick by on the stove clock, but all he can think of is Jon. Of pushing up his shirt and kissing his way down his stomach and feeling the muscles flutter under his mouth. Of sliding his pants down slowly to reveal his cock, soft and a little small, and being able to touch it as much as he likes. Or maybe of just fucking him with it still soft. Being selfish with his pleasure because Jon is letting himself just be a hole to fuck. A body to move as he pleases. Something that he can use as he wants. </p><p>By the time twenty minutes ticks down, he's hard and aching, trying to fight against the urge to put a hand on himself. He wants this to last. </p><p>Jon is sprawled out in bed when he comes into the bedroom, half-covered by the blankets and lit by their one dim lamp, and his breathing is slow and even. "Jon?" Martin tries, and then repeats louder, getting no response, "Jon?"</p><p>Still nothing.</p><p>Jon's face is smoothed out, all of his usual lines of worry faded away, and he looks so much younger like this, even with the gray streaks in his hair shining in the light. Martin lets himself take it all in for a moment, his heart awash with fondness, and then starts to strip out of his own clothes, his heart starting to pound, a little sick twist of arousal in the pit of his stomach that hurts as much as it feels good. Jon doesn't know he's here. Jon doesn't know what is going to be done to him. Martin kneels up onto the bed, naked, and reaches for the light. It feels right, somehow, to do this in the dark. </p><p>“Love you,” Martin says, and leans down to kiss Jon's slack lips, a hand pressed to his chest to feel the steady in and out of his slow breathing. Jon doesn't respond; he didn't expect him to. He draws down the covers and there Jon is, his oversized sleep shirt rucked up a little to show a strip of skin at his belly and the faint trail of hair going up towards his navel. Martin swallows hard. He looks so <i>vulnerable</i> like this. He reaches out a hand and presses it against the faint swell of Jon's belly, feeling the warmth of his skin, and takes a deep breath, just lingering there for a moment. Jon doesn't stir. He'll be able to take his time with this. Properly. He'll take as much of Jon as he likes. </p><p>He wraps a hand loosely around himself, giving his cock a squeeze, and stares down at Jon again. There are so many possibilities. So many things he could do. He could nudge Jon's lips open with careful fingers and feed his cock inside slow and slick, feeling the pliant, wet warmth of his mouth, and fuck him, his fingers buried in Jon's hair to move him however he likes. He could turn him over and fuck between his legs, leaving slick, sticky trails on his thighs. He could--</p><p>First things first. He takes another deep breath and moves to straddle Jon, thighs on both sides of his hips, and slides his hands up underneath Jon's sleep shirt, pushing it up until it's bunched around his armpits, and Jon doesn't so much as twitch as his skin is slowly exposed, and when he lifts Jon's arms, moves his head, to pull it off the rest of the way, Jon's limbs are loose in his arms. He's like a doll. Something to be moved as Martin pleases. He presses his thighs together, keeping Jon in place with them, and lets himself rut against the soft planes of Jon's stomach for a moment, watching the way the head of his cock slides across the soft skin, across the patches that are textured from scars. On impulse, he reaches out, and gently slides the tip of one finger into one of the worm scars, feeling out the shape of it. The way the skin goes rough and dead around the edges in a way that has never gone away. He shouldn't like that, he thinks plaintively, squeezing his eyes shut. Feeling these secret bits of Jon that no one gets to touch like this. But Jon is asleep, and there's no one else around; no one else has to know about it. </p><p>He rubs a hand over the tip of his cock, gathering wetness, before reaching out to thumb at one of Jon's nipples, hardened to stiff peaks in the chill air, and it stiffens further under his touch, the slick gleaming off it from the tiny sliver of light coming in from the window into the darkened room. Jon looks so good like this, so relaxed, and he pinches at Jon's nipple harder, tugging a little, just to feel the give of it, the way it pebbles up, before sliding a hand across his chest to do the same to the other. Jon likes having his chest played with when he's awake, and even in the depths of his slumber, Martin can hear the way his breathing has sped up a little. The ever so faint flush to his cheeks. If he was awake, he would whimper, small and bitten off, and Martin would have to kiss the sounds from his mouth or be driven mad by them, but here, he's silent. He's just a toy for Martin to play with, manipulate as he likes, and Martin playing with his chest is because Martin wants to, not because he does. Martin sighs, staring down at him, and it feels deeply satisfying in its own way. </p><p>Part of him wants to leave marks. To bite Jon's neck, and his chest, suck darkening bruises into his skin, but Jon said at first, at least, that he wanted Martin to keep it a secret when he chose to do this. When he took what he wanted from Jon. Martin loves seeing the marks on him, giving them to Jon, biting at him until his eyes bead with tears and he says, voice cracked and plaintive, “it <i>hurts</i>,” even though they both like that part. But this is possession too.</p><p>He leans to the side to reach for the bedside drawer and fumble in it, his hand closing around the half-empty bottle of lube. Tomorrow night maybe he'll take Jon's mouth, if he's careful, or use his thighs, or see if he can push his thin, bony chest together enough to give himself something to fuck against, or just straddle him like this and come on him as many times as he likes. Tomorrow has possibilities too. For tonight, he thinks, he wants to try being inside Jon. To feel what it will be like. </p><p>Jon offers no resistance when Martin kneels back and starts sliding his pants down. When Martin reaches out with one hand and pushes his thighs wider, they move exactly as far as he's pushed them, and his heart is pounding and his cock so hard he's half-afraid he's going to come the second he pushes inside Jon, but, well. If he does, Jon will be asleep for a long time. He can go again. He'll just have to make sure to clean him out after he's left him a mess of come. </p><p>Martin slicks up his fingers, half-sat on the edge of the bed, and twists to kiss Jon's inner thigh, feeling the pulse jump against it. Jon isn't hard, not that he was expecting him to be, and there's something deeply intimate, he thinks as he lets himself cup Jon's soft cock and just hold it in his hand for a moment, about getting to see him like this. It sends a pulse of heat through him, and he squeezes once, enjoying the way Jon feels in his hand, before letting go. He doesn't want to linger. Isn't sure why his brain has so thoroughly fixated on the idea of fucking Jon while he's still soft, but it's not something he has to examine too deeply right now. </p><p>When he presses one finger gently against Jon's hole, a quick glance up to make sure Jon is still just as deeply asleep as before, the tip slips in with almost no resistance. Jon is so relaxed like this. So pliant and open for him. He tries to draw it out, tries to finger Jon slowly, adding another finger and leaning close so he can see the way Jon is stretched around them, but he wants so badly to be in Jon <i>now</i>, to feel this soft, sweet heat around his cock instead of just his fingers, and the part of him that loves when Jon tells him it hurts can't help but think about how he might be just a little sore in the morning. Might just ache inside and wonder if it's because Martin fucked him, or if it's from something else, a little seed of doubt lingering in his mind. </p><p>There's no one to rush him, though, and so when he slowly, slowly wraps a hand around his cock and starts feeding it into Jon, he can just stay close and watch every centimeter as it disappears inside him. Jon is so small compared to him, and the little thrill that goes through him seeing his tiny hole swallow up the thickness of Martin's cock is so strong it makes his whole body hurt with arousal. Jon isn't awake to tell him to hurry up. To tell him to do it, or <i>not</i> to do it. This is about what he wants, and he hisses out a sharp breath as the burning heat of Jon swallows him up, trying to savor the slow stretch of it, the pressure around him, the way when he nudges Jon's thighs wider with both hands Jon goes, and he barely makes it halfway before it's too much and his hands on Jon's thighs shift upwards to grip his hips. He pulls Jon down experimentally, just to see, and puts enough strength in it that all at once he's buried in Jon to the root, a shock of heat running through him and making him moan out loud. He can move Jon like it's nothing. </p><p>“You feel good,” he tells Jon softly, and watches Jon's face, but as he slowly starts to rock his hips, Jon's face doesn't so much as twitch. His breathing is still slow and steady. His eyelids don't flicker. Martin grips his hips nearly tight enough to bruise and pulls Jon in to meet him as he draws out and fucks in, and Jon's arms loll to the sides as his whole body shakes with the movement, but he doesn't stir. His whole body lists to the side as Martin's pace picks up, and Martin closes his eyes and holds on, pounding into him hard enough that if Jon was awake he would be crying out, struggling to take the thickness of Martin inside him. </p><p>He pushes forward one last time and sinks in deep, as deep as he can go, Jon's hips pressed tight to his, and comes inside him in slow, shuddering pulses, slicking him up inside, and he lets himself linger there until he gets so oversensitive it hurts, so caught up in the heat and pressure of Jon wrapped around him like this. When he pulls out, there's a faint trickle of come left behind after him, and he slides backwards on the bed enough that he can lean down and watch it as it slowly drips out onto the bed. He'll have to clean Jon up properly later, he thinks, as he presses his fingers inside again and works the come out of him, have to get a washcloth and then get him back into his clothes, but for now he's too caught up in watching the sheen of his own come inside Jon. Of the hot, possessive thrill that Jon is <i>his</i>, that Jon let him, that Jon still doesn't know that any of this has happened and is still asleep and soft in his bed. That his come is inside Jon and Jon is open like this, freshly fucked, his hole reddened from the roughness.</p><p>“Thank you,” Martin says, and for a long moment, he just watches Jon's chest rise and fall. </p><p>He'll get him cleaned up in a moment. Just another moment. He just wants to savor this for a little while longer.</p>
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